Issue link: https://tmcpulse.uberflip.com/i/1010198
T M C » P U L S E | A U G U S T 2 0 1 8 T M C » P U L S E | A U G U S T 2 0 1 8 28 A tube from my port that goes into my heart and a feeding tube that goes into my small intestine tethers me to this backpack. My gait is abnormal and my hand function is quite limited. But as I contemplate my situation, there is a part of me that hopes I am never cured. Perhaps I am not meant to be a "normal" doctor, but a voice to bridge the gap of those who are solely doctors and those who are solely patients. Over the years, some doctors, professors and advisors told me to quit medical school. They said, "Your medical history is too extensive," and "You don't have the functioning you need," and "It is impossible for you to continue school while being a patient in the hospital so much." Some said, "If you do continue, you need to hide the deficits and illnesses you have." I remember one neurologist walked into my hospital room and asked everyone to leave. She sat down at the foot of my bed and looked me straight in the eye and said, "Claudia, you have to give it up, you can't be a doctor." After telling her I disagreed, she told me, "Look at where they are and look at where you are." ("They" referred to my classmates who were rounding with her on my case.) "Lift up your legs!" she yelled. "Lift up your legs!" At the bring light to those in the medical profession who have a disability, who battle health issues, who have been underrepresented for far too long. As health care providers, we're not immune to illness. We should embrace individuals on both sides of medicine because they bring unique perspectives to the field and serve as a bridge between doctors and patients. To those, like myself, who find themselves on both sides of medi- cine, remember this: They say there is light at the end of the tunnel, but I've learned there may never be a true "end" to a medical condition, that the light may stay beyond our reach. But, perhaps, this is when we should create light for ourselves, to encourage others to see us just as we are, to show how we can shine despite the darkness. time I couldn't move my legs. "See, you can't even lift up your own legs. You can't even take care of yourself. How can you take care of a patient?" All these years, I wish I had known someone fighting a seri- ous illness while also trying to get through college and medical school—someone to look up to, to show me that it is possible. I've been sharing my story on social media for six years in the hopes of finding others like me. And I've found that just because people like me are underrepresented doesn't mean that there aren't a few of us out there. They, too, were told to hide. You may see a young woman who has overcome adversity with resilience, time and time again, but I hope you also see a woman who is only human, a woman with a dis- ability and medical history neither she nor her doctors can change, a woman who is good enough to become a doctor, despite everything. I'm here to represent and After brain surgery No. 6, Martinez's medullary stroke scar healed nicely. Credit: Courtesy photo